Just a Movie and Dessert
by Keya127
Summary: Part two of There's Nothing Wrong with Romance, and the first part of Harry's date with Draco.


A/N: Here it is! The second part of _There's Nothing Wrong With Romance_! Sorry for the wait, but now that school is out, I'll have more time (hopefully) to work on the next part. For more news on updates, see my LJ. Also, a big thanks to my beta, Lily! This would be torture to read if it wasn't for her. If you catch any mistakes though, they're mine, and I'll fix them later.

Rating: R/M+..ish.

Warnings: Some OOC-ness from Draco, and sexual situations.

Disclaimer: All characters, ideas, etc… belong to JKR. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money is being made.

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When Harry woke up the next day, he found his new book propped up against his chest; he had fallen asleep reading. He opened the book to the cover page, and smiled. Draco must have cast some type of spell on the book before he left, because on the inside was a note. 

_This one is good. And there's nothing wrong with romance._

_See you tomorrow night._

As he read the note for the umpteenth time, the reality that Malfoy-no, _Draco_, was coming over finally hit him. Tonight. Shit. That meant that Harry had to actually get out of bed. He stared at the ceiling for ten more minutes. Moving. Right. He turned his head, noticed the pile of boxes stacked up against his wall, and winced.

When Harry had said that he just moved to Winchester, he meant it. Most of his belongings were still in boxes from the move the day before. Fortunately, his table, and most importantly, the telly (a large flat screen that Harry was rather proud of) had been set up, right in the middle of his living room. Harry figured that they'd only really be using that, and the couch, anyway. Oh, and maybe a bed.

Harry set to work, opening and charming all the boxes, so they could unpack themselves. Supposedly, if one did the charm correctly, they wouldn't even need to do that- but when Hermione tried to teach Harry the charm the first time, his box ended up exploding. She was not too pleased to find Harry's unwashed pants on her head (despite Harry's claims that they weren't dirty, just "stained").

After unpacking the majority of his things, he decided to take a break, and read his new book. Rather, read the note that Draco left for him _in_ the book.

111

While Harry had been cleaning, Draco had been shopping for dessert. Usually, Saturday mornings were reserved for trips to France, or Milan, but today was different. The dessert that Draco was bringing couldn't be an ordinary dessert. No, it had to be _the_ dessert. Something exotic, something that would make Harry come in his pants.

Draco had visited two countries, and ten bakeries so far, but couldn't find what he was looking for. As he sat in a café in a small mountain town in Switzerland (chocolate had been a possibility), he mulled over the previous day's events. Suddenly, an idea came to him. Downing the last of his coffee, he apparated to the nearest floo station.

111

Harry was just stepping out of the shower, when he realized that he had forgotten something incredibly important. The movie. Shit. How could he have forgotten to rent the movie?

Throwing on some clothes, Harry dashed out the door.

111

Harry Potter did not like Socially Awkward situations. In fact, he tried to avoid them as often as possible. Lady Luck, however, was not on his side tonight, and Harry found himself in a painfully embarrassing Socially Awkward situation.

When Harry had reached the video store, he made a beeline for the new releases, wanting to leave as soon as possible. As he approached the counter, he noticed that the porky store clerk was giving him a funny look, which Harry tried to ignore. He turned his head to look at a movie that was playing on a T.V that was mounted on the wall, but still felt the gaze of the store clerk on the back of his head. Soon, Harry became so distracted by the movie that he had to be poked by an eccentric bag lady (she bore an eerie resemblance to Professor Trelawny), who signaled him to move forward.

The store clerk never took his eyes off Harry as he mechanically scanned the back of the DVD case, and opened to check for a DVD. This was getting creepy. And awkward. It felt like… Harry didn't know what it felt like. He just knew it was uncomfortable, and that it made him blush. And Harry Potter did _not_ like to blush in public. This was vying for the top spot in Harry's Top Ten Most Socially Awkward situations- threatening to unseat the time that he saw Professor Snape at a Muggle sex shop buying a pair of handcuffs, which had been residing at number one.

Lady Luck was a bitch. The DVD case that Harry had picked up was empty. He had to wait in uncomfortable silence, and endure the store clerk's unwavering gaze.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry looked up. How did the clerk know his name? "Err, I'm sorry, do I know you?" Then Harry saw the name tag, and something clicked. "Dudley?"

"You're really thick, aren't you?"

Harry decided to ignore the comment, and looked Dudley up and down. The years hadn't been too kind to him; he had gained back the weight he lost as a child, and had quite a few spots on his forehead. And he smelled a bit too. "What are you doing in Winchester?" Harry asked. "I thought you'd never leave Surrey."

"Got my girlfriend up the duff," Dudley said brightly. "She lives here, and her parents are Catholic, so…" His voice trailed off, not bothering to finish the sentence.

"Oh. How… lovely." How Dudley had ever managed to get a girl, never mind impregnate one, was beyond him. He tried to look under the layers of fat and grease, to see what could have made Dudley even remotely attractive, but his attempts were futile. He was still as ugly as he had been in childhood. Maybe it was personality? No, that couldn't be it. Perhaps she was perpetually drunk. Yes, that seemed more likely.

Thankfully, the manager returned with the DVD, and Harry could leave the wretched store. As he walked down the street to an Apparation point, he thought of their encounter and shuddered, deciding that while this was an awkward situation, seeing his old professor in a sex shop would still keep its spot at the top.

Hopefully his date with Draco would be better than that.

Harry was dreadfully unorganized, and it was times like this that he wished he were more like Hermione. It wasn't until 7:30 that he realized that he hadn't prepared anything for dinner and quickly made a phone call to the nearest take-away, hoping that Draco didn't mind Thai food.

111

The thing that shocked Draco the most was that Harry had plates. _Real_ plates. Not those flimsy paper ones that Muggles liked to use instead of proper dishes. Harry didn't seem like the type to have actual plates, let alone matching ones- with matching silverware.

The quality of the food was shocking too. Initially, Draco had groaned inwardly when he saw the take-away bag that Harry had attempted to hide, but the Thai food turned out to be much better than he anticipated. He hadn't expected Harry to cook; in fact, he was almost anxious about what they were going to be eating. Neither of them had mentioned anything about dinner; just a movie and dessert.

111

As Draco was sitting in the Café, he remembered an Egyptian dessert that he'd had when he was working as a curse breaker in Northern Africa, with the Weaselette. They were _Asabi Gullash, _phyllo-pastry finger desserts saturated with sweet syrup and filled with a cinnamon and chopped walnut mixture. When he was purchasing these from the baker, he also noticed a pudding-like dessert, which actually turned out to be a sweetened couscous. Impulsively, he decided to purchase some as well as the _Asabi Gullash_, not sure what Potter might like more.

The dessert, Draco was proud to say, practically _did_ make Harry come in his pants. Harry looked like he'd never had something so wonderful in his mouth; it was a look as close to pure ecstasy as one could get without actually reaching it, Draco thought smugly. The way to a man's pants is through his stomach, after all.

Of course, the fact that Draco was doing absolutely wicked things with his mouth as he ate the sweetened couscous enhanced Potter's reaction, but then again, it could have also been the suggestive way he was eating the phyllo-pastry fingers that did it. Draco decided it didn't matter, so long as he was getting the same reaction.

111

After dessert, Harry was more than ready to watch the movie. He needed a distraction; Draco's display had almost ruined his favorite pair of trousers. A good dose of angst was certain to suppress his urges. After all, Harry didn't want to appear _that_ easy.

Winchester was mostly a Muggle city, with one or two wizarding shops for those that lived in the area, and virtually no wizarding community; thus wizarding robes weren't generally worn. As Draco walked around Harry's television, inspecting it, Harry stared. When Draco knelt down to look at the various technical appliances, he noticed that Draco certainly wore his clothes well. His denims fit snugly over his pert arse, and it took a great deal of willpower for Harry not to salivate. He had only seen Draco in wizard's robes, whose conservative folds of fabric had concealed his slender, toned—

Damn those bloody romance novels.

Draco was through inspecting Harry's television, and unceremoniously plopped himself down on the sofa. He was spread languorously across the couch, and Harry had to turn away and set up the movie to keep from blushing. This lackadaisical and cool, Muggle-clothes-wearing, Annie Proulx reading Draco certainly wasn't the Draco he remembered from his school days. But then again, people changed with time.

"Well, get on with it Potter." The smooth drawl broke him out of his silent reverie.

"Oh, yeah, sorry." Harry turned on the telly, and pressed play on the DVD player. He turned to sit down, but noticed that Draco was pretty much taking up the entire couch. Harry cleared his throat. "Budge up, Malfoy."

Draco smirked, and sat up a bit. His new position practically forced his head onto Harry's lap.

Sneaky bastard.

Partway into the movie, Harry realized that Draco was drawing lazy circles on his knee. He tensed a bit, but relaxed into the touch. Soon, he found himself stroking Draco's hair, and Draco moved closer to Harry.

"Why doesn't he go sleep in the bloody tent with him already?" Draco's remark broke the silence. He lifted his head to look at Harry, expecting an answer.

"Because he doesn't want to compromise his masculinity?" Harry offered.

"Hmph." Draco sighed, and settled back into Harry's lap. He wasn't sure, but Harry thought he heard Draco mutter something about prudes, masculinity and cowboys.

_"Ennis!"_

_"What?"_

_"Quit your hammerin', and get in here!" _

Harry's heart started pounding.

_Ennis enters the tent, clumsy with sleep, and lies down next to Jack._

Harry stopped stroking Draco's hair.

_Jack shifts, and pulls Ennis's hand across his body like a blanket. Ennis and Jack sit up, startled, and Ennis moves away from Jack. They're kneeling, facing each other, and staring with eyes bleary from sleep. Jack takes off his coat._

_"What you doin'?" Ennis grumbles, voice husky with sleep. Jack holds his head steady, and presses a kiss to Ennis's lips._

Draco let out a sound that sounded like a strangled "Oh."

"Alright?" Harry asked, looking down at Draco.

" 'm fine," Draco replied, attempting to control his voice. "Oh my."

_Jack undoes his belt, and Ennis turns him over. Roughly, he pulls Jack's jeans down his hips, and spits into his hand._

Harry was beginning to worry. This scene always gave him an erection, and Draco was lying right on top of his lap. He was already semi-hard, so he tried to think of things- horribly disgusting things, like…like Professor McGonagall, restrained with shiny new handcuffs and bent over the Potions desk, taking it from Professor Snape. Yes, that would do nicely.

Harry shivered at the thought. Perhaps it had been too potent a thought, because Harry thought he'd never be able to get hard again.

That is, until he saw the strain in Draco's jeans. That brought him back full force.

Draco looked up at Harry, his eyes dark with desire.

"Stop the film."

Harry started to protest, but in a fluid movement, Draco was straddling Harry's lap, cutting him off with a fierce kiss. He returned the kiss, and explored Draco's mouth, feeling the ridges of his teeth, and the velvet of his tongue. His mouth was hot, and Draco tasted like the sweet syrup and cinnamon of those little Egyptian pastries. Harry felt bereft when Draco broke the kiss.

"Why are you stopping?" Harry asked, his lips and cheeks flushed.

"To do this." Draco re-adjusted himself, and reached down between Harry's legs, palming his crotch. Moaning, Harry bucked his hips, grinding them into Draco's hand. Hastily, Draco undid Harry's fly, and yanked Harry's pants down to his knees, exposing his straining boxer shorts. Draco removed his hand from Harry's crotch and started to grind his hips up against Harry. It was a matter of minutes until the friction they created brought them both off, and Draco slumped against Harry's shoulder, panting. Casting a cleaning spell on the both of them, Draco stood up to allow Harry to pull his pants back up. He sat back down, and Draco re-assumed his position on the couch, with his head in Harry's lap. Harry reached for the remote, and resumed their movie.

* * *

tbc...

A/N: Just a little note to American readers- when I wrote "pants" (when I mentioned the packing), I meant "underwear," not "pants" as we're used to.

Oh, and Review! I answer all signed reviews :)


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